Lot 665 Ladies and Gentlemen
by Eldunari Liduen
Summary: Erik attends the auction of items found in the Opera House 30 years after the conclusion of the musical. LND is not involved in any way, shape or form in this story. One-shot; Rating for mild language use; Erik's POV


_**Phantom of the Opera**_** belongs to a whole bunch of people. I am not one of those people, sadly. Some of the diolouge belongs to Andrew Lloyd Webber.**

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><p>I've always held that Box Five of the Opera Garnier provides one of the best views of the theater. Of course, there isn't much to look at now that its glory days have passed… But there was a time when this building was one of the most beautiful structures in Paris. That was a very long time ago. Close to thirty years if my memory does not fail me. It seems so long ago. So very long ago…<p>

The theater used to be filled every night with close to two thousand people- all of them gathered to enjoy the magnificence that is music itself. Of course, I'm sure not all of the attendees came for the sole purpose of music. But music filled these halls all the same with its wondrous, unending chords and melodies that have the power to take one away from reality if one wished to do so. Ah, music! The sole way that one can express anger, passion, hate, joy, melancholy, love through naught but harmonies! The written word can be used to convey these ideas, but when one wishes to truly convey the depth of human emotion for which there are no words, music is born! Music- the greatest gift one can ever hope for. For through music, souls soar! Kings weep! Maidens find love! Music is what brings humanity together!

Ah, pardon me. I seem to be rambling. You won't see someone more in love with music than myself though. It is my only true love that has not misfired in the most hideous way imaginable.

But now, music lays silent in my Opera. I will occasionally play my own composings on the instruments in my possession. A violin, an organ… Hardly a full orchestra. You see, I never left. This building may hold some of the most painful memories for me, but I could never abandon my monument to the magnificence of melodious music.

There hasn't been an opera or play or anything held on this stage in years. Today is different though. There is a reason other than my broodings about my haunted past to appear once again in Box Five. Today, there is to be an auction.

I was not happy at all to hear about the auction. One day ago, the thrice-blasted workmen assigned to comb through the vast expanse of my domain had somehow managed to find an entrance to my home-by-the-lake and had been wise or lucky enough to let me know of their presence only when they were nearly at my door! There had been a time in which I would have known of their presence long before they even discovered my house and they would have been…disposed of. However, I had grown lax in listening for visitors ever since the fall of the House so they took me quite by surprise with only a few minutes to conceal myself.

They had remarked to each other how clean the place looked for rooms that should have been abandoned long ago as they walked through my underground house.

"Who do ya s'ppose even would 'ave lived down 'ere?" one of them had asked the other two.

"Be damned if I know!" one had replied. "John! Are you alright? You look as if you've seen a ghost!"

I had to keep myself from chuckling as I didn't need them to know of my presence.

"Th-that's exactly it… Be you familiar with th' story of the Phantom of this Opera house? We-we may be standing in 'is home now if the tales are to be believed… An' by the look of this I think they may be!"

There had been a considerable pause as the men thought this over.

"He could still be here Hugh…"

"Grab what you can! We shouldn't be 'ere!"

When they were far enough away that I was satisfied that they truly wouldn't come back, I emerged from my hiding spot. A quick look around told me that they hadn't grabbed much. But one look at my mantel piece told me they had taken something from me that if they surely weren't back with their kind by now telling their tale, I would have killed the whole lot of them.

They had taken the Music Box. The one that _she_ had loved so much. If I had had someone listening to me, they would have heard a few choice words from me that day along with multiple references to myself in the third person as Nadir told me I am wont to do when I experience great anger.

I had swiftly donned my black cloak and took to the back passages I had worked into the building to find out where those men had gone and find a way to take back what they had no right to. Following my ears, I soon found myself in a very familiar place- the catwalks above the stage. Looking down from my perch- dusty with disuse- I was able to learn of the auction. With the auction being held the very next day, there was a bustle of activity that I gathered wouldn't settle until tomorrow. Even as I had watched, two men were always on or about the stage where the items were being gathered. In days past I may have been able to easily dispatch of them both before alarm was given, but I am not as… young as I once was. So l left and went back to my home to await today.

The auction has been going on for quite some time now as I watch it from my usual seat in Box Five. The only reason I remain is to see what unfortunate man will have the misfortune of acquiring _my_ music box. Whoever he shall be will regret it. I saw them all enter, one at a time. No one seemed to come together apart from an elderly man in a wheel chair accompanied by his nurse.

"Sold!" the auctioneer, Monsieur Carpenter, declares from the stage with the lowered backdrop behind him. There is polite, scattered applause. "Your number sir? Thank you. Lot 665, ladies and gentlemen- a papier-mache musical box, in the shape of a barrel-organ."

I lean as far forward as I can without being seen. Yes, it is _my_ music box. Now to see who will be the unfortunate soul to acquire it…

"Attached the figure of a monkey in Persian robes playing the cymbals. This item, discovered in the vaults of the theater still in working order!"

"Showing here," the Porter says. The Music Box starts up, playing its simple melody.

The bidding starts. For whatever reason, the old man in the wheelchair seems intent on attaining the box. Ah, well. At least he might not put up too much of a fight. Perhaps I shall even be able to talk him out of the music box. I can be rather…persuasive with words when the mood strikes me.

"Sold! For thirty francs to Vicomte Raoul de Changy. Thank you, sir."

No. It's impossible! Of all the people-! How-?

"A collector's piece indeed… Every detail exactly as she said. She often spoke of you, my friend. Your velvet lining and your figurine of lead… Will you still play when all the rest of us are dead?" I can hear him mumble.

My mind is racing, but it is clear just enough to pay attention to the next item… one that I am quite familiar with, though not as loath to see go.

"Lot 666, then. A chandelier in pieces. Some of you may recall the strange affair of the Phantom of the Opera- a mystery never fully explained."

I can't help but give a wry smile at the number the chandelier has been assigned. I wonder if this is mere coincidence or if the organizer of this whole affair has a rather dark sense of humor. Lot 666 indeed… How _devilishly_ appropriate.

"We are told, ladies and gentlemen," the auctioneer continues, as if sharing some great secret, "that this is the very chandelier that figures in the famous disaster. Our work shops have restored it and fit up parts of it with wiring for the new electric light so that we may get a hint of what it may look like when re-assembled." He gives a chuckle. "Perhaps we may frighten away the ghost of so many years ago with a little illumination! Gentlemen!"

I simply cannot help myself. Projecting my voice to fill the theater, I give a short burst of ghoulish laughter as the chandelier is pulled up from its position on the stage. The attendees look around themselves, apprehensive about the noise. Ah, I have forgotten how much fun this is!

"Or perhaps not..." Monsieur Carpenter says as the chandelier comes to a halt about halfway up. It wouldn't do to raise it all the way- it would just mean more work getting it down for whomever decides to buy the piece.

Even as I watch the slight commotion I have caused below from the shadows, I feel a pair of eyes trained on me. It is the Vicomte. Our eyes meet for a fraction of a second, but he knows I have seen him. He reaches up and touches his nurse's hand which has been resting on his shoulder and motions for her to wheel him out.

As if he thinks that will dissuade me. Ha! No, I shall follow him out. I will regain my music box! Once again with the help of the passages I so lovingly designed decades ago, I reach the foyer of the Opera House where I know the Vicomte will pass through. I conceal myself in the deep shadows and wait for him to pass through. Ah, here he comes now!

"Mademoiselle, would you be so kind as to leave me here for a moment by myself? There is something I must do…" he says.

"Of course, Monsieur. Simply call and I shall return," the nurse replies. She gives him a small, sad smile behind his back. As soon as she is out of hearing range, Raoul de Changy speaks.

"I know you are here," he says simply, looking about the grand foyer with his eyes shielded by glass. "Show yourself. You need not fear me. I have nothing with which to harm you… nor the strength."

Intrigued, I step form my hiding place behind the Vicomte. "Are you sure it is not _you_ who should be worried about harm to your person, Monsieur?" I ask, trying to keep a civil tone with the man who robbed me of my Angel. It wouldn't do to have the nurse come running back now.

He spins his chair around quickly and looks at me with wide eyes, the music box resting in his lap. "My God…"

"_Bonjour_ to you as well, Monsieur," I smirk, letting just a hint of sarcasm color my voice. "I believe you have something that doesn't belong to you." I indicate the music box.

He firmly grips it with his arthritic-looking hands. "No. I have paid for it. It is mine now."

"Ah, but Monsieur… It was stolen from me. Just like a certain _some_one else as you may recall." I lift up my sleeve just enough to show him the thin coil of the Punjab. He pales, nearly reaching the same color as the half-mask I wear at all times. Yet at the same time… his eyes fill with sorrow. He looks away from me.

"So," I continue, "I would be most pleased if you would kindly return what is rightfully mine." A though occurs to me and I chuckle. "I do not think the monkey would be able to kiss me in order to secure its place with you. Nor would I make the same mistake again."

Raoul looks back and locks his blue eyes with my yellow ones. "You truly do not know what has happened, do you?"

"What do you mean, Monsieur?" I ask, still mocking him.

"She is dead," he says and bows his head.

No. No! My Angel- dead? How can this be? True I never dared plan for the day I would see her again one day, but I admit that I had hoped to see her again! But she is dead! My Angel! My Angel of Music is gone…forever.

"When?" I ask, careful not to betray my sorrow through my voice.

The Vicomte swallows, trying to hold back his own tears. "Just a month past." He looks back up at me. "She asked me to come back before she died… To tell you of her passing. She had hoped… hoped that you would sing her requiem."

I turn so that only the side of my face which bears my mask faces him. "I shall do so. I shall do so for my Angel."

He nods. "You and I may have a history, but I thank you none the less. It would mean a great deal to her."

A moment of silence ensues as neither of us know what to say to the other. I hear the creaking of the wheels on his chair slowly coming towards me. I straighten my posture and wipe any emotion from my face as he stops in front of me.

"Here," he says as he takes hold of the music box and holds it up to me, "this is rightfully yours, just as you have said. I have hundreds of other items by which to remember her… Take it."

I do so, and give him a slight nod of thanks. "Where?"

"Perros."

"Merci, monsieur," I say, no trace of sarcasm in my voice. I turn to leave by one of my back passages.

I have a requiem to compose.

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><p><strong>AN- When looking up how many seats are in the Opera Garnier (1,979), I came across a picture of the Chandelier (thank you Wikipedia). IT LOOKS EXACTLY LIKE THE ONE IN THE MUSCIAL. I just found this immensely amusing and it made me smile (and have a small phangirl moment) so I thought I'd share. Though it is probably old new to some of you :)**

**I hope you enjoyed this one-shot! It was my first time writing a story entirely from a character's POV so I hope that worked out ok.**

**Thank you for reading and please leave a review!**


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